Yes I agree. To discuss and understand absolute and relative morality they have to be defined first.
I take it I'm right in saying you're a proponent for morality being absolute.
You define absolute morality based in truth . This from your earlier post....
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And things change, and what occurred in the past and what occurs now may well be altogether in conflict with each other.
So what was considered moral then and now or vice versa, might have to adjust. Quite evidently that has been the case. That too by the same definition is truth..right!?
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Incredible fine tuning precision. It happened all by itself. By accident, by chance. Yep. Just like this computer I am using to type this. No designer, it just popped into existence.
Incorrect, I never defined absolute morality, I defined morality as right behavior which is actions that don't harm and are based in truth.
What has occurred in the past has occurred and is unchangeable, it is set in stone.
Truth is also defined as a fact,
The Frailty of Historical Truth: Learning Why Historians Inevitably Err
David Lowenthal, March 2013
https://www.historians.org/publicat...ry/march-2013/the-frailty-of-historical-truth
...
Absent a final close reading of source materials, such deformations, we concluded, were inescapable. Every historian makes things up while writing—selecting, omitting, and reshaping data to make an argument clear, a point vivid, a conclusion indubitable. We had been schooled to abhor deliberate bias, knowing nonetheless that objectivity was at best a noble dream. But we had not realized quite how far unconscious bias suffused the process of gathering and using sources, let alone how important it was––and how much work it took––to minimize that bias.
These findings affected us in three ways. First, they warned us to view with extra caution the veracity and conclusions of historians given to manifold, even if seemingly minor, carelessness. Second, they were invaluable reminders for our own doctoral research, time-consuming and costly as adhering to them proved to be. It took me an additional week in the National Archives, not only to check my initial transcripts and synopses of my biographee George Perkins Marsh's 1,500-odd diplomatic despatches from the Ottoman Empire and Italy, but also to reread those despatches in their entirety, so as to gauge what my penultimate thesis draft had omitted, scanted, or misinterpreted.6
The third lesson was the most sobering. However much we took these cautionary principles to heart, however ardently we vowed to adhere scrupulously to their tenets, we came to realize that we could never unfailingly do so. Indeed, our lapses, like our mentors', were bound to become more numerous the busier our careers. How many historians take the time, even given the resources, to recheck every source before publication? Who faithfully ferrets out every original source from its secondary citation, especially when the sought-for "original" turns out to be another dubious secondary? A scholarly task would never end. So we know we fall inexcusably short.
This mortifying knowledge should fortify humility, much extolled by scripturally minded historians who bid us wash our disciplinary disciples' feet of clay. "All history should be a lesson in humility to us historians," declared Charles McIlwain in his 1936 AHA presidential address. "What we all most need is a … sense of humility," echoed Allan Nevins 23 years later, "because however hard we search for Truth we shall not quite find it." And yet, "how could they be expected to practice humility," queried Theodore Hamerow, "amid the deference" widely accorded historians at the mid-century? "The temptation to play the seer was simply too great."7
Deferred-to seers no more, historians have lost public credibility.8 It is salutary to be reminded that we are perforce fallible not only epistemically but also personally, subjugated not only to our slippery subject matter but to our slippery selves. To the genre's own insuperable limitations––data that are always selective and never complete; the unbridgeable gulf between actual pasts and any accounts of them; bias stemming from temporal distance, from hindsight, and from narrative needs––we must add, and keep in mind, human frailty. Hence we rightly accede to perpetual revision of our work. Continual correction is mandatory not only because new data keep coming to light, new insights keep arising, and the passage of time outdates earlier judgments, but also because we recognize that we never wholly live up to the demanding tenets of our trade.
We ought not be chagrined, therefore, that some successor is apt to disclose our unwitting mistakes and lay bare their sorry historical consequences. We are duty-bound only to minimize such lapses only so far as our brief years render reasonably possible. And to impart to our own students the humbling lessons bequeathed to us of the frailty of historical truth.
David Lowenthal is emeritus professor and honorary research fellow at University College London. Among his books are West Indian Societies, Geographies of the Mind, The Past Is a Foreign Country, The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History, and George Perkins Marsh, Prophet of Conservation. The Past Is a Foreign Country—Revisited is now in press.
Complete disorder is impossible. Connect the dots (Penrose eons and this), and GOD (that is the true theoretical God not the religious God) is looking more and more irrelevant as initial cause:
http://www.elitetrader.com/et/index.php?posts/4288640